The Unforeseen Variable
by 0MoonPrincess0
Summary: WICKED separated them for a reason. They were never meant to be together. So when Lia suddenly shows up in Group A's maze, Chancellor Ava Paige is grasping at straws about what to do about it. She cannot afford to terminate her most precious elite subject, but by letting Lia stay she might be compromising everything WICKED has worked for.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! I'm back with another story! I haven't given up on The Marauder Princess, don't worry (I'll never give up, it's my baby). But, I've recently watched The Maze Runner Trilogy again and I was suddenly overwhelmed with inspiration for another fic. Also, I've started reading the books last week (I'm loving it to death so far), so this will probably be a mix of both worlds.**

**Originally this was supposed to be Thomas x OC, but I've had a change of heart as soon as I started reading the first book. I completely fell in love with Minho. I mean, he's a piece of gorgeous Asian ass on the movies sure, but in the books there's just something about him... he's hot-tempered and explosive... man, I love that in a guy. As if you hadn't noticed by now, right? Tasuki, Raphael, Remus... all of the characters I've written about are pretty temperamental. It's a fetiche, I'm well aware, guys. **

**Anyway! I hope you enjoy this new journey! I eagerly await your wonderful reviews.**

**Love,**

**Moon Princess.**

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from James Dashner's universe. Unfortunately! However, I do own my character.

* * *

**ooo**

_"The best love is the kind that awakens the soul; _

_that makes us reach for more, _

_that plants the fire in our hearts and brings peace to our minds."_

**ooo**

**Chapter 1. The Girl**

The day began as any other day in the Glade. The boys were up with the first signs of light streaming though the windows of the Homestead. By then, Frypan already had a nice, steaming pot of oatmeal all set to fill every hungry teenage stomach before starting another busy morning. Everyone had a job to do in the Glade; there were no slackers, or slouches. To stop would mean to give up, and Gladers did not give up. Never.

After he finished a quick round of warm-up exercises, Minho waited impatiently for his companions to do so as well. He bounced from one foot to the other, gripping hard at the straps of his satchel. Restlessness gnawed at the corners of his gut. His muscles were taut, twitching and flexing underneath the rough fabric of his navy shirt. Something felt different about today. Even though everything _seemed_ normal and everyone was off on their same old boring routine, Minho just couldn't shake off the feeling that something big was about to happen.

The other Runners fell into position. To the right, Minho caught Newt shooting him worried glances, but he decided to ignore them as he barked a loud order and sprinted towards the northern entrance of the Maze. The furious sound of rubber tapping and squeaking against concrete told him his friends were hot on his tail. When the first intersection came up, they separated. Minho took the right with three others. Newt went left with the rest. They were a group of eight in total; one for each section of the Maze, and while Minho was the leader, Newt came to a close second. Having been two of the first boys to populate the Glade, they both knew the labyrinth by heart – each sharp turn, every dead end, all the possible routes. More importantly they knew what dangers lurked in the shadows, hiding amidst the ivy creeping up the walls, waiting to pounce.

The weather was hot as a hell's waiting room by the time Minho took a quick lunch break. His forehead glistened with salty beads of sweat and the back of his shirt was damp, sticking to his skin in the most uncomfortable way. Pulling a thermic canteen from the satchel, he gulped down half of it and poured the rest over his head. The water was cold; it felt heavenly against his scorching scalp.

Two chicken sandwiches and an apple later, he was running again.

Section seven (his section) was the biggest, but he always went through every possible pathway in a day's work. After two whole years of searching, he had never found anything; not even a hole small enough for a rat to crawl in and out of. None of them had. They were stuck, but they kept running because they wanted desperately to find a way to escape from the never-ending Maze.

Lost in thought, Minho rounded the next corner without checking first. He realized his mistake five seconds too late, when a massive head sharply shifted towards the sound of his sneakers. He froze at the sight of the monster. It had a long and slimy body resembling a slug with patches of hair sprouting here and there. The thing had no visible eyes, but Minho knew it had spotted him. For a few moments, all they did was stare at each other. The smell oozing in the air was intense and oily, penetrating his nostrils with burning acidity. Then the abhorrent creature launched forward, metallic legs clicketing and clacking against the ground.

Minho ran without looking back, but he could hear it chasing him. He forced his body to move faster, cutting through the wind like a missile. His feet blistered with the friction, his muscles ached. Blood was pumping wildly through his veins, struggling to supply enough oxygen to keep up with the strain. The air exited his lungs in desperate, hungry pants that pinched his chest like thousands of needles.

One corner.

The sound grew further away. Minho kept sprinting despite all the complaints of his body, breathing in through his mouth and out through the nose with the expertise of the veteran he was.

Two corners.

One long corridor.

Right. Then left.

The metal clanging was nothing but a far echo now.

Another corridor.

A third corner.

No more clicketing and clacking – the Griever was gone. But Minho's strides didn't falter. A few more miles and he would be back at the Glade. So he pressed on until the vast expanse of green showed up in his line of vision. The other Runners were waiting for him just outside the walls. They sagged with relief when he reached them and hunched over his knees to catch his breath. Newt patted him on the back in a brotherly fashion, conveying without words how happy he was to see him make it back for another day.

Shuck, his ears were ringing. He shook his head and rubbed the small appendages hoping to stop the annoying sound, but without avail. Took him five minutes to finally realize it weren't his ears. It was the alarm. The Box was coming up.

"Kind of early for a greenie, ain't it?" Minho asked when he straightened up.

Newt shrugged with a frown. "A bit, yeah. C'mon, let's have a look."

The Gladers had gathered around the elevator hatch through which the Box, as they called it, came up and down. Most of the boys were buzzing with curiosity, taking guesses and making bets on how the new greenie was going to fare. However, those who had been living in the Glade for the last couple of years no longer cared about new arrivals. What did it matter who came in when they couldn't even go out?

The Box stopped with a loud thump and four boys rushed to pull it open. Newt joined them, but Minho didn't. He crossed his arms and stayed back, watching with a look of complete boredom. After all this time, why did they even bother with all the reception? Every time the Creators sent a boy up, the poor shuck would be completely freaked out of his mind and no amount of coaxing from any of them could fix it until the greenie calmed down.

"Bloody hell!"

The cry of surprise sent off the warning bells in Minho's head. He pushed through the crowd, blatantly ignoring the outraged complaints, until he reached the edge of the elevator where Newt had jumped into. His friend was crouched down in front of something, but Minho couldn't figure out what from his spot.

"What is it, Newt?" asked Alby as he joined Minho.

"It's a girl!"

A collective gasp echoed in the Glade and Minho didn't waste any seconds before jumping down as well. Newt was right; it was a girl. A mass of red hair was shielding her face. Carefully, even though she was out cold, he stepped closer to gently push her wild curls back and have a better look. His eyes widened.

Like everyone in that place, Minho had woken up two years ago with no recollection of his life before the Glade whatsoever. Nevertheless, he still preserved a general knowledge of the world and other basic concepts, like what a tv and a phone were, or how important good hygiene was. He also remembered the taste of a hot steaming cup of noodles, the feeling of rain kissing his face, the sound of music playing in the background of a room and someone singing along, the sunlight touching copper and golden streaks of hair. Minho knew beautiful and ugly, and this girl wasn't just absolutely beautiful. She was a memory, an image stolen from his dreams and now thrown at his feet.

Minho brushed the dust of freckles peppering her white skin in a trance, dragging the tips of his fingers along the soft lines of her face, touching the length of long lashes, the sharpness of cheekbones, the rosy plumpness of full lips. When she stirred a little, he jerked back as if electrocuted, regaining some focus. His eyes fell on the leather straps keeping her wrists in a tight grip behind her back. The delicate skin there was already turning an ugly shade of purple.

"She's hurt," he told Newt, "she needs Clint."

Ever the kind-hearted, Newt was quick to jump into action. He hoisted himself over the edge and promptly explained the plan to Alby. Both boys grabbed a rope with a loop tied at the end and threw it to Minho, who in the meantime had swung an arm under the girl's legs and another under her back. He placed one foot on the loop, but struggled to grab the rope while holding the girl. Eventually he gave up and simply moved her into one shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes, this way having both hands free. He apologized to the girl for treating her so rudely several times in his head as his friends pulled them out of the Box.

Once out, Minho moved her to the original position and marched towards the Homestead, Newt and Alby on his toll.

"Aww come on, guys! You're not even letting us see her?" whined one of the boys.

"Yeah! It's the first time we ever got a shucking girl!"

"I bet she's hot!"

Soon there was a loud wave of noise from the disgruntled boys who were more than a little eager to check out the new arrival.

"Get back to work, slintheads! You'll see her when I say you can!" Alby barked loudly, voice dripping with threatening authority. That shut them up.

The Med-Jacks' sick ward was located on the second floor of the Homestead. It was long hallway with several doors on both sides. Minho swung one on the right open, barging unceremoniously in, earning an eye-roll from Clint who had been reading quietly by the window.

"It wouldn't kill you to knock once in a while, y'know–" Clint cut his sentence short at the sight of the girl being laid down on the bed. "What the shuck is that?!"

"It's a girl," Minho deadpanned, searching the several shelves in the room for a pair of scissors or a knife to cut the girl's bindings.

"Yeah, shuck-face, I can see _that_! What is she doing here?"

Newt rubbed his lips with his fingers in a nervous habit as he watched his friend roam around desperately in search of a sharp object. "She came up in the greenie box today, but she's out cold," he told the Med-Jack.

After Minho turned a set of drawers inside out, emptying all the contents on the floor of the room, Clint sprung from his seat with an angry scowl. "Stop going through my stuff, idiot!"

"How do you not have a shuckin' knife in this dump? You're a doctor for klunk's sake!"

Exasperated with the Runner's rude antics, Clint rolled his eyes with a sigh and brought a small knife from the pocket of his jeans. "Here."

When Clint didn't immediately move, Minho shot him a look. "Well? Are you gonna take care of her or not?"

The Med-Jack did. As Minho cut through the leather bindings, Clint did a quick check up on her vitals. The girl was breathing normally but her pulse was weak, signifying possible trauma to the head. He threaded his fingers along her scalp, feeling for wounds, dry blood or any signs of injury. She had a large bump on the back of her head, still fresh but luckily already healing.

"She seems fine," he announced minutes later, using a wet cloth to clean the injury. "We should let her sleep it off, she'll wake up when she's ready."

"What about these?" Minho asked quietly, brushing the purple bruises marring her perfect skin.

Clint stared at the marks, eyebrows furrowed. "They're just bruises, nothing serious, I think... there's nothing to do about it except let them heal."

"Why would the Creators send a bound, unconscious girl up here?" Alby's question was met with silence. He didn't seem to actually be looking for an answer; he just felt the need to air it out.

The room plunged into a tense silence. The men shifted around uncomfortably as Minho sat down next to the girl on the bed, unable to tear his gaze away from her face. His heart was ramming against his chest like a jack-hammer. "I know her," he muttered under his breath.

A pause.

"What?!" Alby hissed. Before he could take an angry step forward, Newt's arm shot up to stop him.

"How's that possible, Minho? You said you remembered as much as the lot of us."

Minho shifted to face his friends. He was just as confused as they were. Even more so perhaps. From the moment they woke up in that Box, Minho had only remembered two things – his name and her face. The memory was never too specific, only foggy bits and pieces of small details, like the freckles on her cheeks or the color of her hair. Hell, he even knew her eyes were blue even though she had yet to open them.

"I see her in my dreams sometimes," he found himself confessing, cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "No idea how or why, so don't stand there hoping I have all the answers 'cause I literally don't have any."

"This is shucking weird, man. Who in their right minds would send a girl into a place full of dudes?" Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Maybe they'll start sending more... maybe they expect us to populate the Glade."

All color drained from Newt's face. "What? No, no, no. No way. That would mean there's no way out and we are actually supposed to live here – forever. I don't want to believe that!"

"Hey, I'm just pointing out the obvious." He put his hands up in surrender.

Minho was off his seat faster than any of them could blink. He took a defensive stance in front of the bed, shielding the girl from view, growling, "No one is populating anything. Any dumb shank lays a hand on her, I'll throw them in the Maze and let the Grievers have them for dinner!"

"Why are you getting so protective? So what if you had a couple of dreams about her, it don't mean nothin'. I dream about girls too, we all do, we're guys, Minho. But we don't know a thing about her," Alby countered with a scowl. "For all we know, she might be a spy and this might all be a trap."

"A trap for what exactly? Someone clearly threw her in here against her will!"

"She could be faking the whole thing!"

"Alby, look at her, she's passed out cold!

Newt placed a soothing hand over their leader's shoulder. "I'm with Minho on this, Albs. She's hurt, and I'm betting she'll be completely terrified by the time she wakes up, especially once she realizes she's stuck in the middle of nowhere with forty perverted blokes."

The two teenagers rivaled stares for what felt like an eternity to the other two watching. Finally, Alby let his shoulders sag and took a step back, heading towards the door. "Fine, but you're responsible for her, Minho. Since you seem so taken to the girl already, I'm sure it ain't gonna be a problem," he told him in way that clearly left no space for arguments.

Soon after, Clint followed suit and left for dinner. Only then did Minho notice the dimming of the lights outside and the growing hole in the pit of his stomach, rumbling and groaning. Newt seemed to share his thoughts.

"We should grab something to eat."

Minho looked over the shoulder, feeling uneasy. "I don't want to leave her here alone."

Newt pursed his lips, glancing back and forth between the girl and the Runner. "Minho..."

"I get it; I know how this looks, alright? And I know it sounds shucking crazy, but this girl... she means something to me. I need to figure out why."

"Fine," Newt conceded. "I'll bring by something later then."

Gratitude washed over Minho. He could always count on Newt. "Thanks, buddy," he replied warmly, returning to his previous spot on the bed, eyes roaming across her face as if committing every detail to memory.

The blonde Runner shrugged it off and headed out. At door, he paused. "What if she doesn't know who you are?"

Minho's heart stopped. Newt was right; what if she didn't? Or worse, what if his lonely and desperate mind had made up an image of a girl he thought beautiful to help him cope with the Glade? What if this girl was just someone who shared several similarities with the one from his dreams and, therefore, wouldn't know who he was? Minho wasn't sure if he could handle it. He had spent so many nights chasing her in his dreams, reaching out for her only to grab a hand full of smoke and a whole lot of nothing. And now... Now she was here, just within his reach.

Minho couldn't let himself doubt she was real even for a second.

"She has to."

* * *

A strained silence had taken over the room. No one dared a word. The petrified men and women stared at the wide screen in a mix of horror and disbelief.

The door behind them swung open, a tall and elegant woman marched inside. She was wearing a white lab coat over a tailored blue dress and her pale blonde hair was neatly pinned in a bun on top of her head. The severe scowl on her lips stole away every trace of beauty from her face. When she saw the image displayed on the screen, her eyes flared with a terrifying fury.

"What is the meaning of this? What is she doing in there? Someone better give me an explanation right now! Dr. Carter!" the woman hissed.

A short man with a round protruding belly and a thick mustache cowering in a corner let out a squeak, "I have absolutely no idea, Chancellor Paige! She just showed up on our screens a minute ago, no one knows how!"

"Subject O was placed on lock down last night; she was hurt and unconscious, so she couldn't have gotten anywhere on her own," pointed out Ava Paige, voice dripping with ice. "Someone put her there – one of us."

A dark-haired woman took a timid step forward. "With all due respect, Chancellor, no one in this room would've helped Subject O. For the last few weeks, she's been emotionally unstable, extremely uncooperative and highly prone to violence."

Several doctors agreed, filling the once quiet room with obnoxious murmuring. "I heard she bit a soldier when he went to feed her in that cell..." one of them said. "She kicked nurse Payton too..." piped in another.

Chancellor Paige ignored the commotion as she stared hard at the screen, where Subject A7 was currently running his fingers through the girl's hair. Two years. They had successfully kept them separated for two whole years. For a while, she thought Subject O was finally moving forward, or at least she had hoped she would. Then, there was last week's incident and again last night. Subject O wasn't always the easiest to deal with, if it hadn't been for her incredible potential they probably would've terminated her a long time ago, but things had never gotten quite so out of hand. Chancellor Paige couldn't help wondering why now?

Whoever managed to sneak Subject O into Group A's glade knew his way around the underground tunnels because there were several mazes and only a handful of WICKED members remembered exactly which lead to which. They said no one in the room would help the girl, but clearly someone had.

_Of all the mazes..._ Chancellor Paige thought. What were the odds?

As the wheels of her sharp mind reeled and strained, she suddenly realized something. The odds weren't that many. In fact, they were practically none existent. It wasn't a coincidence.

"Fetch Thomas and take him to my office, Janson," she told the man standing close behind her, who nodded politely before exiting the room. With a long sigh, Chancellor reached inside her coat to pull out a cigarette, lit it up, took a large drag. "This is a disaster... she was never meant to go in there."

"Would you like us to terminate her?" offered Dr. Carter.

The Chancellor shook her head, exhaling a big cloud of smoke. "No, not yet, but let's keep a close eye on her. I have a feeling this experience is about to become a lot more interesting."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from James Dashner's universe. Unfortunately! However, I do own my character.

* * *

**ooo**

"_There is never a time or place for true love. _

_It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, _

_throbbing moment."_

**ooo**

**Chapter 2. New Life**

_The awful pounding on the back of her head was making her eyesight fuzzy. She struggled to focus on her surroundings, but she could only see a bright light. What on earth was happening? Why wasn't she in her cell? Wait... a cell? She lived in a cell? God, why was it so hard to remember her life? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember where she lived, or where she was for that matter. _

_ Cold dread filled her stomach. Where were her memories?_

_ When she moved to sit up, someone gently pushed her back down. A familiar face came into view. Through the blinking white dots and blurry edges, the only thing she could fully discern from it was a pair of eyes. Dark amber, like molten whiskey, stared down at her with so much sadness that it broke her heart. He was crying, she noticed. Why was he crying? _

_ "I'm so sorry," he sobbed quietly, brushing her cheek with the tips of his fingers. "I hope one day you can forgive me... for everything."_

_ "Wh-what're y-you talking a-about?" Her voice sounded dry and parched, it scratched at her throat like grains of sand._

_ "All I ever wanted was to make you happy... how could I be so stupid?" _

_ The boy gathered her in his arms, holding her close to his chest. She could hear the frantic beat of his heart rampaging against her ear. Even though she had no idea who he was, the sorrow laced in his words ached as much as the throbbing in her head._

_ "Find your way back, Ophelia," he told her with a strange urgency. "Save them."_

* * *

Every muscle in her body was sore. Even her eyelids ached when she fluttered them open. At first, her vision was hazy, filled with white fog and shapeless forms. She blinked a few times and a wooden ceiling greeted her. Furrowing her eyebrows confused, she moved her neck around so she could have a better look at the place she was held in. The rest of the room was dark, barely illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the only window. A desk full of books was on the opposite corner to her bed. There were three other beds, several chests of drawers and a lot of medical kits neatly stacked on a bunch of shelves.

Where was she?

More importantly... _who _was she? How come she couldn't remember anything?

A wave of nausea washed over and she felt panic pile up like bile waiting to come out of her mouth. Everything before this exact moment was blank in her mind, but how could that be possible? She had a clear understanding of the world. In fact, she remembered several specific things, how to talk or how an advanced society worked on a daily-basis. For whatever reason, she even knew the exact position and name of every bone in the human body. Which was incredibly weird. Why would she remember that?

A sudden movement caught the girl's eye. She slid across the bed until her back hit the wall, watching with wide fearful eyes as a young man rose from slumber and stretched his arms over his head. Boy, he had really thick arms. And a wide chest. And broad shoulders.

Her heart thumped wildly against her ribcage. The sound must've caught his attention because he promptly straightened up to meet her gaze with surprise. She took advantage of his moment of hesitation to observe. The sunlight kissed his russet skin with the gentleness of a lover, worshiping every inch of his face in golden hues. He had dark hair and brown eyes shaped like teardrops. Different, yet beautiful all the same.

The young man studied her attentively. She could see the gears working inside his brain, assessing whether or not she would try to flee at some point.

"Where am I?" she croaked out, throat dry. The sound of her voice was strange to her ears; it was softer and much more feminine than what she expected.

He swallowed loudly, adam's apple bobbing up and down with the action. "You're in the Glade."

"The Glade..." she repeated the word, trying it out on her tongue. "Where is that?"

Again, he swallowed. "Tough question. How about we start with the easy stuff, huh?"

"Like what?"

"Like... what's your name?"

The question threw her off guard. Her name... She had one before, didn't she? She had to. But what was it? Something with an O? Yes, it definitely started with an O; she was sure of it.

Closing her eyes, she tried to remember the dream she was having not long ago. The one with the crying boy. The image was distorted as a disturbed reflection in stilled water, so she focused on the sounds of his voice echoing instead. He had such a nice voice; warm and kind.

_"Find your way back, Ophelia."_

Ophelia.

"It's fine if you don't remember, you shouldn't stress about–"

"Ophelia," she quickly cut him off. "My name's Ophelia."

The corners of his lips tugged upwards and a tiny dimple appeared on his right cheek. "Kind of a mouthful, ain't it? How 'bout we just call you Lia?"

The moment hit her with a stroke of familiarity, like a _deja vu_. How come she knew what a freaking _deja vu _was but had had no idea where she was or where she came from?

"Alright. What about you?"

"I'm Minho."

"Minho?" She scrunched her nose. "What the hell kind of name is that?"

The boy – Minho – barked a laugh as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. His whole face lit up when he laughed, Lia noticed. "Well, you don't really have a lot of room to talk, _Ophelia_!"

She shrugged. "It's still better than Minho."

"Huh... I'm impressed; you're handling this pretty well. I half expected you to wake up kicking and screaming at the top of your lungs," he replied good-naturedly.

"It's not too late yet," she mumbled under her breath.

Minho's grin widened. "You're funny, I like it. Wanna have a look around? Maybe I can find you something to eat."

On cue, a loud growl filled the hut. Lia flushed ten different shades red and hid her mortified self underneath the woolen covers. The sound of Minho laughing only worsened her embarrassment.

There was a bit of rustling and the sound of a chair dragging before the bed dipped. "Aww come on, kitten, don't hide," he teased, tugging the covers away from her. Lia stared up at him with a frown that only made him more amused. "You're cute."

"Don't call me cute, you don't even know me," she grumbled, sitting up with a wince.

When she glanced down, her eyes fell on the purple bruises on her wrists. Someone had tied her up by the looks of it. Lia wondered why would there be a reason for her to be bound tightly enough to leave a mark. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find an answer. A large hand wrapped around her wrist, covering the bruised skin. She glanced up, feeling her face flush again as she found Minho inches away from her nose. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Clint says they'll be gone in a couple days," he explained quietly. "Don't look at them, okay?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, but she nodded anyway, hoping he would step back and let her breathe. He didn't.

A fiery static cracked in the air between them as they stared into each other. His eyes were dark as night, but the more she looked, the more Lia noticed the faint hazel veins swimming inside that beautiful darkness. And he smelled wonderful... like grass, sweat and something familiar. Why did he seem familiar?

"Do I know you?"

A strange glow flickered alive inside his eyes. "I don't know. Do you?"

The underlying guttural sound on his voice sent an electric current charging down her spine. A tight knot of anticipation formed in her belly, and she scowled at it. What in the world was wrong with her?

"I-I don't think so," Lia ended up stammering.

Minho's smile vanished, so did the adorable dimple, much to Lia's disappointment. She quite liked that tiny dent on his round cheek. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Okay, well... Come on. I'm gonna show you around."

Minho helped Lia get on her feet, keeping a firm hold on her elbow to steady her quivering legs. The long fabric of the dress she was wearing brushed against her ankles as he led her outside and down a large flight of stairs.

The rest of the building was similar to the room she had woken up in. The wallpaper on the walls was peeling off, some large chunks were missing, as were from the tiles on the floor. It reminded Lia of a spooky house of horrors, although she didn't remember ever actually seeing one.

The light was too bright when they exited. It nearly blinded her at first. Once her eyes adjusted to the brightness, Lia awed at the sight in front of her. The Glade, as Minho so fondly called it, was the size of several football fields, green luscious grass stretching along its vastness like an infinite carpet, stopping at the base of four monumental walls made of stone. Thick branches of ivy climbed all the way up, and it was a really long way up. The walls must've been hundreds of feet tall and each side split into an opening just as big.

Feeling slightly bolder, Lia let go of Minho and darted forward. Her strides were a little wobbly, but gaining more strength the further she ventured. The wide doors were vaguely familiar, like an echo from a past life. They were calling to her, drawing her in, daring her to come find the secrets hiding in those winding corridors.

"Woah! Hold your horses, kitten!" Minho grabbed her arm, yanking her back gently, yet firmly, when she got dangerously close to the doors. "You'll get both of us in trouble if you ever step foot in there."

"Why? What is it?"

"Nothing you need to concern your pretty little head about. Just stay away from the doors when they're open," he ordered in a commanding voice that got under her nerves while dragging her away from the openings and back to the Glade.

Lia dug her heels on the ground and shook off his hand with a scowl. The look of bewilderment on the his face proved very satisfactory. "What do you mean when they're open, does that mean they close? Why do they close? Are we stuck here?"

"Shuckin' hell, I had a feeling you'd turn out a curious one," Minho muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second before facing her, hands on his hips. "Look, there will be a time to answer all of your questions, but not now. You've been out for two days and you need a proper meal in that stomach, or your brain won't have the energy to process all the new information coming its way."

She really didn't want to fold, not to such a bossy guy. However, her stomach's complaints were getting louder and louder by the minute and it wouldn't be long until it started to hurt. So she uncrossed her arms with a sigh and nodded. "Fine. But you better answer me after."

Minho shot her a grin. "Sure thing, kitten."

"Ugh, stop calling me that." Lia rolled her eyes as she followed after Minho, trying to keep up with his long strides. "Where're you taking me anyway?"

"To the kitchen, of course."

_Right, of course_. She fought the urge to roll her eyes again.

As they walked through the Glade, Lia took the chance to observe the new place she would be calling home from now on. The building they had come out of stood on one far corner of the wide courtyard, surrounded by trees with thick roots that dug deep into the ground. Across the compound, she spotted a large wooden building and several pens full of chickens, sheep and pigs, and a large grove of trees on the opposite corner. The combination of sweet and sour smells crept up her nose, burning her nostrils.

The weight of being watched slowed down her pace. She glanced over her shoulder only to freeze in panic. There were about thirty boys standing behind her, some poking their heads from behind the trees, gawking like she was the main attraction in a circus. Not one single girl.

"Uh... Minho?" she called in a small voice.

The boy grunted, sounding mildly annoyed, but turned nonetheless. It didn't take long for him to realize what had stopped Lia. He used his large body to shield her frozen figure from the several prying eyes, growling, "What're you dumb shanks gappin' at, huh? Ain't ever seen a girl before?"

"We haven't and you know that!" one of them, a tall boy with crooked teeth, said.

"Yeah, Minho! Just let us have a look at her," joined another.

"You'll have plenty of time to look after work. Now move along and let me give the tour in peace."

"Why do you get to give her the tour? You should be running."

Minho scowled at the boy who'd spoken. He was tall guy with blonde hair and thick, ridiculously arched eyebrows. Lia found them hilarious, but he didn't seem particularly friendly so she decided to keep that thought to herself.

"Get off my face, Gally. You got a problem, then take it up to Alby," Minho snapped hotly.

The boy rolled his eyes, shrugged and turned his back to them. "Whatever."

Everyone else had nothing to add and decided to resume work. She could still hear them whispering among each other, gossiping about the latest arrival at the Glade. Lia heaved long sigh filled with relief. Well, that was unexpected.

"There aren't any other girls in here, are there?" she asked Minho.

He pursed his lips into a thin line, pinning her down with an evaluating gaze. She fought against the need to squirm.

"No, you're the first one," he finally answered.

"That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen..." Lia chuckled nervously.

"They all know better than to lay a hand on you. I promise." When he gestured for her them to resume way, she obeyed without a complaint. "Look, we have rules here. Obviously none of them took girls into account when we made them, but the most important one is never to harm another Glader."

The canteen area was split into two spaces. The space outside was made up of wooden picnic tables and matching benches. Moving inside, she found more tables and some plastic chairs. Minho told her to take a seat before stepping through a door on the left, which Lia assumed led to the kitchen. He returned a few minutes later, balancing a trey full of food and a large pitcher with orange juice.

Lia shot him an odd look when he lowered everything in front of her. Scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, toasted bread, fresh apples and all sorts of berries piled up in metal plates.

"I may not remember much," she started with an amused smile, "but I'm pretty sure I only have one stomach. This is way too much."

"Yeah well, lucky for you I'm eatin' some too," he replied, digging in without another second to waste. "Fypan's a moody, annoying slinthead, but man can he cook. Try the bacon; it's mind-blowing."

She did, and he was right – it was amazing. Cooked to perfection, the strips of bacon slid down her throat like warm syrup. Her stomach growled with deep satisfaction, encouraging Lia to keep on eating.

"Who's Frypan?" she asked, through a mouthful of toast.

"He's the Keeper of the Cooks."

Lia watched Minho gulp down a whole glass of juice with a strange fascination. The little bump of his adam's apple bouncing up and down with every gulp. A drop slipped from the right corner of his mouth, gliding down his chin. She followed its path with hungry eyes, unable to stop herself.

When he finished, Minho caught her looking and frowned, bringing one self-conscious hand to wipe clean the traces of juice. She promptly shifted her attention to the plate of fruit, plucking out a particularly big strawberry, feeling embarrassed of her actions. Must be her hormones acting out, she thought. It was the only explanation she could find. She might not remember what sort of person she used to be, but Lia had a feeling she wasn't the type of girl who ogled boys (no matter how handsome).

"So... what's a Keeper?" Lia figured now was as good as any time to start making questions. With her hunger subdued, she could finally focus properly and a fizzy curiosity started to simmer its way up.

"Here, in the Glade, we have an orderly system and it's very important that we keep it, otherwise bad things happen," Minho explained. "Every slinthead in this joint has a job to do and it's a Keeper's job to make sure everyone does their part."

"They're the bosses then."

Minho lowered his chin to the palm of his hand. The edges of his eyes crinkled with the size of his grin. "I guess you could say that, yeah. We also try to make sure all of you stay out of trouble, but it's not always an easy task, I'll tell you that."

"Oh, you're one of them?" Lia leaned forward, eyes wide with surprise.

The insolent smile widened if possible. Minho nodded with his head towards the half-eaten eggs on her plate. "Eat, and I'll keep answering your questions." Lia nodded eagerly. "There's ten of us – one for each job. Tomorrow Alby will probably want you to start the trials, he's been a little stressed about having a girl in the Glade, doesn't know whether or not we should put you through the same treatment as the other greenies."

Lia furrowed her eyebrows. "There are way too many things in that sentence that I don't understand..."

"Don't worry, we'll take this slow," he offered reassuringly. "We get a new boy every month and during the first week or so he goes around trying out different jobs so we can find out what fits to his personality. Alby takes care of that; he's our leader. He's a tough shank, but he'll always look out for you. Everyone listens to him, even us Keepers. Whatever he says, goes. If he needs to make a hard decision, then he summons what we call a Gathering, where all the Keepers vote."

"Sounds reasonable enough..."

"Usually, he would be the one giving you the introduction. I'm out for most of the day."

"I thought we weren't supposed to go outside the walls."

"You're not. Ever."

"But you–"

"I'm a Runner," he cut off sharply. "It's my job to go out there every day. No one steps foot in that place except me and my team."

"Why? It's just a freaking maze!" Lia was fuming on the inside. Why was he allowed inside? What made him different than her?

Minho's face hardened with suspicion as he leaned forward, squinting his dark eyes. "How do you know it's a maze? I never told you."

Confusion assaulted her. He was right; he never did. Then how come Lia was so completely certain about what lay past those massive doors made of stone? She had a very vivid image of the Maze, one of the fewest. Every corner, every dead end, every corridor – Lia could see it all in her head. It didn't add up. Nothing did. She had an enormous amount of knowledge about different sorts of things, but no idea where everything came from. It was terrifying.

Eventually, Lia shrugged. "I just know it's a maze."

"You just know, huh?" he repeated, the look of suspicion never wavering. She nodded innocently. "Don't you think that's strange?"

"This whole situation is insane, pal, what do you want me to tell you? I bet you remember some things you can't explain too." As Minho seemed to ruminate over her words, she figured she had hit a nail on the coffin. "You said you're a Runner," she continued, picking up the previous topic, "what's that? And why do you get to go out there every day?"

The guy sighed exasperatedly, rubbing his eyes, suddenly looking tired. According to him, she had been unconscious for two days and when she woke up he was there. Did he stay with her the whole time? If he did, no wonder he was tired, sleeping in a chair couldn't have been very comfortable. A warmth spread through her chest at the thought of Minho by her bedside every night.

"How about we leave some of the questions for later? I was supposed to take you to Alby after you woke up and I've delayed it enough time as it is."

Once more, Minho led her across the Glade. Their destination was the watchtower. At least she thought it was a watchtower. The whole structure was sort of sloppily built. It was ten feet high and made of wood. Climbing up a rickety ladder, they reached the small hut at the top where a tall, dark-skinned man was standing by the railing. He didn't look a day older than eighteen, but the harshness in his chocolate-colored eyes told a different story. The eyes of someone who had witnessed too many hardships and suffered too many losses.

Alby didn't smile at her, but he gave Minho a grateful and dismissive nod. The latter hesitated for a heartbeat before squeezing Lia's hand encouragingly and departing. Her skin tingled where he had touched her.

"I take it shuck-face over there already told you how things work around here, yeah?" His voice was rough, scruffy. Feeling slightly intimidated, Lia's only response was a nod. "Good that. Take the rest of today to relax and get acquainted with the other Gladers because tomorrow you'll be working with the Slicers."

Lia perked up at that. "And what exactly are Slicers? Sounds awful."

There was a devious glint in his eyes. It terrified the hell out of Lia. Definitely not a good sign. Her warning bells went off.

"You'll find out come morning."

_Way to sound ominous_, she thought with an internal snort. "What about sleeping arrangements?" she asked.

"Well, usually I'd tell you to grab a spare sleeping bag, but due to the circumstances I don't think that's such a good idea. One girl and a room full of shanks? They'd have a field day. Ain't gonna happen on my watch," he added the last part as an after-thought, crossing his arms. The scowl on his face was apparently stuck there. "You can have one of the Keeper's rooms on the second floor of the Homestead. You'll have a bed and privacy, it's the least I can do. Anything else, they'll accuse me of not being fair."

"That's fine by me. I don't need much."

Alby raised an eyebrow. "Alright, there's a first for everything, I guess." He sounded genuinely surprised. "Lucky for you, Minho agreed to take you under his wing otherwise you'd be stuck with me. He'll look out for you when he's not running."

After being dismissed, Lia climbed down the rickety ladder. Minho was leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, waiting for her. He greeted her with a killer smile, dimple and everything, and took her around the Glade, explaining what was what and where everything was.

The first thing he showed Lia was the Blood House – even the name made her cringe. It was an old building briefly resembling a barn, standing right next to the pens she'd seen earlier. The stench of animal excrements was almost unbearable. She swallowed the urge to vomit more than once while Minho led her around the place, but it was fun petting some of the cows. Lia realized she loved animals, or she used to at least, in her past life.

Although Minho wouldn't go into much detail about what the Slicers did at the Blood House, she didn't have to be a genius to figure it out, and she was sure tomorrow would be torture. There was no way they would make her kill one of those cute little things. Absolutely no way.

Then, he took her to the Gardens. From what she'd seen, it was her favorite part of the Glade. The apple trees were heavy with ripe scarlet apples, juicy plums and round, big peaches. Their branches spread wide, casting a pleasant shade on the soft grass, providing shelter from the scorching light of the sun. Not far, the fertile ground split into patches of land. The first was for vegetables and grains – corn, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes. On the second one, Lia recognized some of the herbs; most were for medicinal purposes, like chamomile and sage, but some could also be used to cook, cilantro, basil and oregano specifically.

The whole area came alive with bright bursts of color and texture. She hoped someday they would let her have a small corner to plant flowers.

Nothing else caught Lia's attention like the Gardens, the rest of the tour went by in a haze. The Deadheads were creepy enough for her to wish never to step foot there again. Also, when they walked past it, Minho explained how the elevator would come up every week with supplies (sometimes they could even make some requests) and every month it would offer them a greenie, which apparently was what they called the new guy, or girl.

Their journey ended where it started. The Homestead was the only multistory building in the Glade. The ground floor served mainly as a sleeping area, several camping bags could be found piled neatly near a corner. A few floorboards were missing from the ground, and the dark wallpaper on the walls was peeling. Somber and poorly maintained were the best words to describe the place.

The sick ward was on the next story – Lia recognized the long hallway laded by doors on both sides. Disinfectant and alcohol lingered in the air, triggering a familiar memory in the back of her mind; the image hovered for a moment before vanishing completely. It was terribly frustrating.

Finally, they reached the last floor, where the Keepers' rooms were. Minho showed her the bathroom with a clear warning to always lock the door or she might risk a frisky boy poking his head inside while she showered. Lia made a mental note to never forget those words; she definitely didn't need any idiot catching a glimpse of her lady parts and running along to tell his pals.

Moving further down the dark and badly lit foyer, he stopped between two doors.

"The one on the right is my room and the other on the left is yours. Guess we're neighbors," he told her with the same cocky grin.

Lia was curious to check out her new room, but she stayed put. Their eyes met. Again, the air sizzled with static.

"Why are you doing this?"

"What?"

"This–" she gestured vaguely around the hallway. "Alby said he usually does this sort of stuff, so why are you doing it? I mean, I'm sure you have better ways to spend your time than babysitting the new girl."

Minho leaned against the doorway of his room, arms crossed. "I'm a nice guy and I offered to do it."

"Somehow I doubt that," Lia replied, rolling her eyes when his hand shot to his chest, feigning hurt.

"Break my heart much, how can you be so cruel?"

"I'm done with you," she huffed, annoyed, and swung the door of her bedroom open. About to go in, he stopped her.

"You don't like my company, kitten? We barely even started," he said.

_Dear lord, he's terrible_, she thought, amused. "I'm not sure yet." Lia shot him a look over her shoulder, matching the playful smirk on his lips. "And don't call me that."

The sound of laughter filled the quietness of the hallway. Minho's head tipped back, ribcage shaking. It made her stomach crunch into a knot.

"Take a shower, get some rest and pick a nice outfit – everything that came up in the Box with you is in there already. I'll stop by to pick you up around seven, we're throwing a bonfire to celebrate the arrival of our very first girl."

Then he disappeared through where they'd come from.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from James Dashner's universe. Unfortunately! However, I do own my character.

* * *

**ooo**

_"You are the dream I go to every time I close my eyes."_

**ooo**

**Chapter 3: Bonfires and Moonshine**

In the Chancellor's office, Thomas shuffled with his feet, growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing minute as Ava's piercing blue eyes cut through him like a sharp dagger, staring from across the desk, displeasure and anger clearly obvious in the harsh lines of her scowl. Thomas forced his face to remain neutral. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of watching him squirm, no matter how nervous he felt on the inside. Things were serious this time and he knew it; he done something very foolish and very dangerous. Trifling with Ava and the Council was never a good idea, but Thomas was running out of options to help the people he cared about.

"Do you take me for an idiot, Thomas?"

"We both know the answer to that question," he replied coldly.

Ava Paige clicked her tongue, annoyance oozing from her pores. "Spare me the act, Thomas, I'm in no mood for your insolence today. Did you or did you not get her into Group A's Maze?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"This isn't a joke, boy," hissed Ava as she threateningly leaned over the desk. "Subjects O and A7 were separated for a reason. By sending her in there, you may have compromised this whole experiment, is that what you want? Because that would mean all the suffering we've put you through has been for nothing!"

A bitter, sarcastic laugh spilled from Thomas' lips. "Don't pretend to care about us; you never have, and you never will. We are just the means to an end, and it doesn't really matter how many of us are sacrificed along the way."

"Of course we care about you, Thomas, we took you in and raised you away from the chaos of the outside world."

"You did it because it was convenient. And I seem to remember that some of us weren't taken in, were they? Some of us were stolen," he pointed out. There was no denying the guilt flashing in Ava's steely blue eyes before she purposefully stared at the wall behind him, but Thomas wasn't moved. Maybe once he might've given her the benefit of the doubt, but he had learned his lesson a long time ago – Chancellor Paige was a cold-hearted bitch.

Blatantly ignoring his accusation, Ava opted for another approach, "I thought you loved Ophelia, yet you pushed her straight into the arms of another. It wasn't a very smart move, was it?"

Thomas ground his teeth tightly, the veins in his neck pulsating with the slow rage sizzling in his bloodstream. "Fuck you, Ava."

The insult didn't even faze her. Oh but It certainly felt good to say it, he noticed. A very primal part of him wished he could simply jump over the desk separating them and punch her in the nose. She had no right to talk about his feelings for Ophelia, not after using them to her own advantage.

"Deny it all you want, Thomas, but I know you had a hand in this. Why did you do it? Was it just to sabotage Group A's Maze, or was it because of your guilty conscious?"

"I don't have to tell you anything," Thomas growled. "If you're going to punish me, then fucking do it already."

The Chancellor reclined in her chair, intertwining her fingers in front of her and quietly observing him for a minute. Seemed she was weighing her options. Maybe, if he was lucky, she would throw him into one of the cells in the basement and let him stay there. Then he wouldn't have to work for them anymore. Maybe he could finally find some peace of mind.

"I could terminate her, you know?"

Thomas felt his body grow ice cold at those words. She was bluffing – had to be. Ophelia might've been stubborn, unstable and very hard to deal with on a daily basis, but she was useful to W.I.C.K.E.D. She was their strongest soldier. She had a very sharp mind, quick to act when needed and incredibly brilliant. Oh and when she ran… boy, was she a sight to watch, all powerful legs and speedy reflexes. No one had ever beaten Lia, not even Minho.

"You won't do it," Thomas said. When the woman raised a daring eyebrow, he elaborated, "It's not as if you can afford to lose any more kids when the supply has officially run out. The women who survived the Flare are barren, Chancellor, all except one."

Ava's face paled with sudden surprise. "How do you–"

"I have my ways," he cut in sharply, satisfaction pooling in his stomach at having caused such reaction. "I knew there had to be a reason why you didn't want Lia in any of the Mazes, so I did a little digging. It really is amazing what you can find out with a high-level clearance passcode, probably should've thought twice before allowing me one."

"I did not give you high-clearance to work against W.I.C.K.E.D!"

He shrugged indifferently. "You're not willing to terminate someone so precious. Perhaps you should choose another punishment."

"Careful, Thomas," Ava drawled out, voice filled with sickening sweet threats, "I have always allowed you more lenience and liberty than the others, but I can take it all away with only a snap of my fingers."

"I'm not scared of you, Ava, bring it on."

* * *

After taking a well-deserved nap to allow her brain time to adjust to the enormous quantity of information she'd been given today, Lia decided to follow Minho's advice and take a shower.

The bathroom was a small room with dark grey mosaic on the walls and matching floor. Lia half expected the toilet to be disgusting since boys were typically messy (she hadn't a clue as to how she knew that), but it was surprisingly clean. The wide, metal sink had two plastic cups with twelve toothbrushes, each of a different color. Shrugging, Lia joined her pink one into the mix after a quick rinse of her teeth. When she noticed a full-length mirror hanging on the right, she hesitated. Realization downed on her; she had no idea what she looked like.

Slowly and afraid, Lia moved to stand in front of the mirror. Her reflection stared back with big, round blue eyes, two glowing headlights in the middle of a heart-shaped face. A dust of freckles sprinkled the high planes of her cheekbones and her nose. Under the dim lighting of the room, the tangled mess of her hair flashed with copper and golden hues as it tumbled down to her midriff. Lia found it beautiful, and she was more than a little eager to wash off the grime and sweat so the colors could come alive.

The long dress she was wearing had blotches of blood and dirt, a striking contrast against the whiteness of the fabric. She slipped it over her head, tossing it into a corner, then checked her naked body with a bubbling curiosity. Standing at quite an average height, Lia had slim shoulders, small, perky breasts and a narrow waist, but her stomach was smooth and painted with defined lines. The same with her legs – hard, lean muscle from the curve of her hips to the very end of her calves. Boy, she was in really good shape. Whatever she did in her past life, it must've been tough work.

Lia tipped her head back, moaned in pure bliss as the first jets of warm water hit her, washing away the tension. She scrubbed her hair hard and then battled to get all the knots undone with a wooden comb. Easier said than done; the thick mass was really tangled up, like a rat's nest. But she somehow managed.

Once finished, Lia stepped out, grabbed one of the towels hanging in a nearby hook and patted her skin dry before staring at the clothes someone had sent up with her. The white dress was unmanageable, she would have to wash it later with cold water to get rid of the blood. There was also a pair of white pants and a cropped blue t-shirt; some black leggings and a matching sports bra with rose details; and another dress. The latter caught her eye, it was the color of mint and made of lace, barely reaching to her knees. Simple and beautiful, and perfect for a bonfire. Lia changed into it and fit into the only set of shoes she owned, which was a pair of brown flats.

Truthful to his word, Minho was waiting next to her door. When he saw her coming down the hallway, his eyes widened. The corners of his lips stretched into a mischievous grin.

"I gotta say, kitten," he started in a playful drawl, "you clean up well."

"You told me to pick something nice," Lia pointed out in the same manner.

Obviously she wouldn't tell him, but he was looking very sharp as well. The shirt he was wearing was of a soft shade of blue, the fabric stretched pleasantly over his wide chest and the short sleeves hug his thick biceps. He had also showered, Lia noticed; whiffs of pine trees and cedar wood rolled off him towards her.

Darkness had fallen upon the Glade. The only visible light was coming from the torches lit along the way to the large bonfire burning brightly in the middle of the clearing. Every boy was gathered around the pyre. The long table full of food kept most distracted, but Lia spotted other scattered groups, talking and laughing, wrestling and gambling. Some boys looked a lot younger than her, while others a lot older, with thick beards and grey patches peppered through their hair. Amongst the loud male ruckus, the beating of bongos reached Lia's ears as they approached. For some reason, the sound and the music seemed vaguely familiar.

"Oi, Minho!" They both turned towards the tall, muscular young man who'd spoken. He had golden hair, touching the tips of his broad shoulders and twinkling green eyes who watched Lia with a sizzling curiosity. "I see you brought our guest of honor."

All the noise in the Glade ended abruptly, and the night went unsettlingly silent. Lia could feel the weight of the attention centered on her, but she forced herself to ignore them. Her stare never left the golden-haired boy. After a while, he reached out with his hand, smile in place.

"I'm Newt. Welcome to the Glade."

Lia accepted his hand, grasping it firmly. "Thanks. I'm Lia."

"C'mon–" Newt jerked his head to the side. "I'll introduce you to everyone."

As she followed him towards the gawking boys, Lia dared another look over her shoulder, meeting Minho's gaze. He offered an encouraging smile before whirling on his heels and stomping his way towards the buffet table.

* * *

As the night dragged on, Minho quietly observed from the sidelines.

Every guy in the Glade was stumbling over his own feet for a chance to meet the new girl – the _only_ girl. Standing strong next to Newt, Lia took everything in with admirable resilience. She probably shook thirty or forty sweaty, meaty hands, yet her big smile never faltered. Only a small number of boys never approached her, staring awkwardly from afar instead, but it was to be expected. After all, none of them had seen a girl before, at least not that they remembered.

The music started again soon after. Not many knew how to play an instrument, but every once in a while a new batch would come up in the box and the occasional Glader would recognize it. So far they had three bongos, two flutes and one lucky shank who could play the fiddle. Thanks to them, bonfire nights had become a lot more fun.

Minho eyed Lia's foot as it tapped against the grass with a smile. Aside from dealing with the loss of memory surprisingly great, she also wasn't freaking out about suddenly having to live with a bunch of dudes. It was pretty impressive; Lia had done better than any of them when they were in her shoes, including him. Minho had a feeling she was one tough kitten. And, man, wasn't she gorgeous? The dress she was wearing clung to her curves in all the right places before flaring in layers from the waist down to her knees, displaying a pair of legs to die for. Her hair was clean, it fell in rich copper waves that glistened flaming golden under the light of the blazing fire.

_Golden strands of hair_... The image triggered something in the back of his mind, a fleeting memory. Suddenly, Lia started to blur, growing fuzzier and fuzzier. Minho couldn't believe his own eyes when the girl in front of him transformed into a younger version of herself, of probably eleven or twelve years old. He watched transfixed as the new Lia threw her head back laughing, the sunset painted in her hair. Then he blinked, and the old Lia was back once more.

Baffled by his own strangeness, Minho glanced down at the almost empty mason jar in his hand. Was he hallucinating because of Gally's moonshine, or had that actually been a real memory? Could he have really known Lia before the Maze? Excitement flooded his chest at the prospect, feeling a kind of bittersweet joy that was as terrifying as it was wonderful. In the further depth of his mind, a voice coldly ordered him not to get his hopes up because, even if did remember, it didn't mean she would.

"I see the way you look at her, Minho."

Alby's voice scared the living soul out of Minho, who jumped ten feet from his seat with the startle. He frowned at the dark-skinned male now sitting beside him on the bench. "What?"

"You heard me," Alby said. "I'm only gonna say this once so pay attention, shuck-face – the girl is off limits. It's a new rule and tomorrow I'm gonna pass it along to everyone else, but you get to have the lecture first–"

"Lucky me," Minho muttered under his breath.

Alby pressed on, ignoring the interruption, "You're the Keeper of the Runners, your ass is at risk every time you step foot out those doors and the last thing you need is to be distracted. Last week, you nearly got stung because your head wasn't in the game, and if you don't focus it's gonna happen the next time you cross with a Griever, is that what you want? Even if you think you know her, it's not worth dying for."

"But I do, Alby, I remember her and I'm pretty sure it won't be long until she will too."

"Be that as it may be, the rule stands. We need to solve this shucking Maze, we ain't got time to waste with stupid feelings." His words declared finality, but they didn't sit well with Minho. He felt bile rise up to his mouth, and it wasn't because of Gally's moonshine.

Suddenly restless and frustrated, Minho got a third refill from Frypan and then went for a stroll around the Glade. The darkness made the journey tricky, but Minho was well acquainted with the path after two years. A few red dots bleeped from between the overgrown grass, followed by the scurrying of tiny metal legs. Beetle glades. Peeping bastards, was more like it. As one sped past him, Minho fought the urge to step on it until nothing but chunks were left.

The anger brewing inside of him was difficult to tame. He was angry at everything – the stupid unsolvable Maze, the stupid Grievers... stupid Alby. Who was he to tell him the girl was off limits? He was right, obviously; Minho couldn't afford to be more distracted than he already was. Nevertheless, Alby shouldn't have to tell him that. Alby should trust him enough to keep himself in check.

His feet ended up taking him to the eastern wall, where the Gladers carved their names in the stone. Too many had been scratched out. Too many lives were lost in the early days of the Glade. Minho belonged to the very first batch of greenies to arrive, along with Alby, Newt, Gally and a few others. At the time, he was just as confused and afraid as all of them, so when a boy named Nick stepped in to take charge, Minho quietly accepted. Things only went downhill from that point on. Nick was reckless, selfish, unreliable – not the best qualities for a leader. Two opposing groups began to form, one lead by Nick and another by Alby. Riots followed. Many died during the last battle, in which Alby's group came out victorious; others were banished.

Life at the Glade grew peaceful soon afterwards, and it had remained so until today. Even though Minho didn't always see eye to eye with him, Alby had proved to be a good leader. He cared about his friends, he took responsibility for them.

Minho brought the jar to his lips for a large gulp. The liquid was mid-way down his throat when Lia popped up on his right, her head cocked to the side, curiosity glistening in her blue eyes. "What're you doing?" she asked.

The moonshine slid down the wrong pipe, causing him to choke on it. Lia patted him on the back in a weak, yet mildly appreciated, attempt to sooth his fit of coughing, looking clearly apologetic. "Damn, woman, are you tryin' to get me killed?!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!"

"'s fine," Minho croaked out after getting his breath back. "How d'you find me?"

Lia shrugged. "I saw you sneaking away, you seemed upset."

"I'm fine," he grumbled shyly. To hide his embarrassment, Minho took another swing of the moonshine. Then he offered the jar to Lia. "Wanna try some?"

The girl hesitantly grabbed it, peering suspiciously inside and taking a whiff. Her nose scrunched in a way he couldn't help finding adorable. "What the heck is it?"

"No clue whatsoever," he replied honestly, "it's Gally's recipe."

Lia continued her scrutiny of the amber liquid as she said, "I don't think Gally likes me very much."

"Don't flatter yourself, kitten, Gally doesn't like anyone."

"Now that's just sad."

A chortle blurted from Minho's lips. The sound seemed to surprise her. She glanced up with a smile he easily matched before nudging his head towards the jar. "You gonna drink or what? It has one shuck of a kick, but once you get past it, it's not so bad."

Every bit of daring Minho had guessed she was, Lia pinched her eyes closed and downed at least half of the beverage with only a wince. He was seriously impressed! Barely half of the boys in the Glade could handle Gally's moonshine much less swallow three fingers of it in one go.

Her face contorted into a frown when she finished. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, exhaling loudly. "Holy shit, that stuff's strong!"

"I warned ya," he pointed out, amused. "But, I gotta say, that was pretty cool. You're one hell of a kitten."

"Stop calling me that, shuck-face."

Minho's eyebrow shot to his hairline. "Shuck-face? You've been hanging around Alby?"

"Newt, actually."

Lia flashed him a brazen smile that sent heat rushing through his blood, and his body lit up like a firework, producing a response both familiar and strange at the same time. He knew that smile; it was the same one he saw in his dreams. Some nights, Minho would dream of the two of them hiding behind a building, both looking like they were up to no good. Other nights they would be in a strange room, standing so close together he could feel every curve of her body, and she would smile at him like that, enchanting him, daring him to lower his head and claim what his heart most desired.

Minho nervously scratched the back of his head, cheeks coloring when his over imaginative mind decided to give him a very vivid image of how that dream sometimes ended. He suddenly felt incredibly warm. As he reached for the jar in Lia's hand, their fingers touched briefly. The contact sent sparks and jolts crawling up his arm. He drew away as if scolded, drinking hungrily to quench his parched throat.

"Why are all these names here?" Lia questioned quietly. One hand reached out to brush the carving of Minho's name.

"Every time a greenie comes up in the Box, we bring him here so he can carve his name. It means he's now a Glader – ne of us," he explained. "If they die, we cross it out, but never making it impossible to read. We honor them by never forgetting their names."

They stayed silent for a while. The only sounds heard were the music coming from the bonfire and the faint bleeps from the beetle glades watching them.

"So many are crossed out..." she whispered.

"Well, things weren't always like this in the Glade, we had to fight to get to where we are now. It's why we have rules, to maintain order and keep everyone safe." Minho looked at her from the corner of his eye; she was staring intently at the wall with a frown. He pulled a Swiss knife from inside his pocket. "Here–"

Lia grabbed the sharp knife and, with a decisive nod which was more to herself than to him, she positioned it on a blank spot on the stone. Before she began carving, Minho took a bold step closer to her back and closed his hand around hers, moving the blade higher until the tip was right next to the last letter of his name. He could feel her fast heartbeat, he could hear her stop breathing.

"Put it next to mine," he said, voice low, "let everyone know I protect you."

The blue of her eyes was almost translucent as they met Minho's over her shoulder. The light of the moon casted silver shadows on the soft edges of her beautiful face, making her look ethereal, like something out of this world.

Looking at her, Minho felt something shift inside of him, clicking into place.

"You protect me and I protect you," she breathed in a whisper.

"We protect each other."

"Always," they finished together.


End file.
